Unlikely Friendship
by PixelPhantastic
Summary: Dan Howell is constantly bullied, he's beaten up by a group of kids every single day. But one day, it all changes. Phil Lester, the new boy in the group, has finally come out of his shell and for once is the first one to hit Dan. But he doesn't feel good about it.


div id=":m7" class="a3s" style="overflow: hidden;"  
>div dir="auto"span style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;""Look at him! We haven't even touched him yet and he's freaking out." One voice said.span  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;""What an absolute fucking loser." Another spat in my face. div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"I should probably explain the situation here, I'm in school, currently 10 minutes late for English. I'm pressed against my locker, on a completely different floor from English, trying not to get beaten up.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"The group of guys surrounding me are also supposed to be in English, but the cocky bastards obviously don't care about their literacy skills. There's five of them, as always, and they look even more angry than usual. Probably because I managed to get rid of their dumb graffiti all over my locker. div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"The leader of the group, Connor, is normally the first to throw the punch, then the rest (Dylan, Corey, Sam and Phil) all join in. But this time it was different, Conner moved to the side to make way for someone else. "Lester." He said, jilting his head in my direction. Phil smiled and cracked his knuckles. The rest of the group, including Connor, surrounded me, Phil, and the lockers. div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"I held my English books firmly against my chest and pushed against the locker to brace myself for the impact. Phil raised his fist and threw it forward, but I ducked - what an idiot I was.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"Phil's fist smacked against my locker, making a loud thud and probably a dent in my locker. I could see the anger build up in Phil's eyes, and the group edged him on, telling him to hit me even harder than he intended. I stared at them all in fear, practically shaking under their intense glaring. "I'm sorry." I whispered.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;""What was that, wimp?" Connor questioned, leaning forward.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;""I said I'm sorry." I repeated, hoping for forgiveness, how dumb of me to expect that.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;""Did you hear that? He's soorrryy!" Dylan said, bursting into laughter, the rest of the group joining in. Well, apart from Phil. He was staring at me with less anger before, his eyes softening, his fist lowering. Then, just as he was about to walk away with the group, I breathed a sigh of relief.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"Big mistake.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"Phil turned around again, threw his fist at me, and this time he didn't miss. My head was slammed against the locker, causing me to drop my books. I felt the blood start to fall from my nose, and my vision was blurry. He had hit me harder than he had hit the locker, resulting in another large dent in it.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"I groaned and slid down the front of my locker, curling up into a ball on the ground, my head in between my knees. I felt nauseous, but they weren't going to leave me. "Aw, poor little Danny wanny is going to cry!" Someone laughed, followed by a kick to the chest. I whimpered and eventually did cry, as they continued to kick me and punch me. Most of the impact was from Phil, he hit me the hardest and the most. One last punch to the face knocked me out.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;" div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"Phil POVdiv  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;" div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"As we walked away from the crying loser who had just passed out, I couldn't help feel a tiny pang of guilt. I had never been the one to start an attack, let alone been the one to cause the wimp to pass out. I had dented his locker twice, and bruised his face quite severely. But I quickly brushed that feeling off, I mean, it was part of life, everyone had to get beaten up at one point in their life.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"I looked back one last time to see that he was still on the floor, blood spread near his head, his eyes closed. His books were open and we had ripped pages out of them, and they were littered all over the corridor. Connor still had a pile to drop as we walked along. div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"I still had blood on my knuckles, so I went to the bathroom to wash it off while the rest of them went to "class". Once I had done the toilet, I began to wash my hands, scrubbing at them with soap until the water that went down the drain was no longer red. Even when it was crystal clear, I still scrubbed, wanting to forget the whole incident. Again, I had never had blood on my hands that was caused by my own rage.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"Someone came into the toilet as I was scrubbing them, and I was thankful all the blood was gone as they came up to the sink next to me and started washing their hands. I watched as they too scrubbed furiously, an audible sniffle every now and then. I had an idea of who it was, and didn't want to look just incase. But curiosity killed the cat, and apparently all my senses.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"I looked at the face of the boy next to me, and sure enough it was Dan. He looked at me at the exact same time and I watched sadly as his eyes grew wide, his hands starting to shake. He audibly gulped and backed away, shaking his hands to dry them. They still had blood on them, as did his face and neck. He quickly ran into one of the cubicles and locked it. I could hear him sobbing, but to be honest it was difficult not to, they were loud and short and sounded like he couldn't breathe right.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"I slowly approached the cubicle, weary of any of my friends coming in and seeing me. I leaned against the side of the door and listened sadly as he cried and cried. I could hear him taking bits of toilet paper and blowing his nose every now and then, but other than that there was no stopping. div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"I was still leaning when the door to the toilet opened, and in stepped Dylan. I quickly stepped away from the cubicle and surprisingly manage to pull off the "I was just peeing" card as I made it to the urinal before he noticed me.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;""Oh, hey man." He said, pushing his glasses up. div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;""Hey." I said.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;""You get all that blood off your hands?" div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;""Most of it, yeah." div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;""Don't want the teachers to ask questions, do we?" div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;""Nope." I said, looking at the ground.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;""Is it Corey in that cubicle? He said he needed the toilet not long before I did." Dylan asked.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;""No he's not been in here at all, it's that loser, Dan." I said, as casually and meanly as possible. The sniffling had stopped, but so had the breathing, so I presumed he was holding his breath or just doing it quietly. div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;""Oh. Right. You teach him another lesson?" div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;""Nah, didn't want more blood on my hands." I lied. It wasn't the blood I was worried about, it was the violence.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;""Ah, yeah. I get you." Dylan said, nodding slowly. "So are you just going to stay here? I have to get back to class, but you haven't even turned up yet so I guess you'd be as well here, right?"div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;""Yeah, probably just go on Facebook or something."div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;""Aha, me too mate, me too. The teacher never even notices." Dylan said, "So I'll see you later, yeah?"div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;""Yeah." div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"Dylan left the toilets and I sighed. Leaning against the sinks, running a still wet hand through my hair. Quietly, I heard the cubicle door click open. And Dan slowly walked out.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;" div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"Dan POVdiv  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;" div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"Why is he still there?div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"Phil was leaning against the sinks, exactly where he was before. I felt embarrassed that he had heard me cry, and the evidence was all over my face - puffy red eyes, wet cheeks, and scratched nose.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"I pretended not to notice him as I washed my hands for the second time, acting as casual as I could. But my breathing was heavy, every 3rd breath or so was a wheeze. I clung to the end of the sink, holding one hand on my forehead, trying to correct my breathing. I was beginning to heat up rapidly, and felt like I was going to collapse. The pain in my chest was growing and I began coughing and coughing, until I was sick down the sink. div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"Surprisingly, Phil didn't say a word, he just stared at me. I thought he looked worried as I leaned down to get some water from the tap, but I was probably seeing things. I was still struggling to breathe, my heart racing and my lungs burning, I leaned forward over the sink, knowing I was going to be sick again and if I moved to go to the cubicle I would be sick on the floor.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"I coughed up more sick, and my temperature increased, I began sobbing with embarrassment as my legs began to shake. And my knees were about to buckle, I was about to fall to the dirty bathroom floor, when I felt a hand on my back, gently rubbing it. I looked in the mirror to see who it was, expecting to see a teacher, or a fellow loser. But instead I found the surprisingly beautiful face of Phil Lester, staring back at me worriedly. He had always looked so nasty and intimidating when he was near me, but when he looked concerned, he was gorgeous.div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"Everyone in the school damn well knew I was gay, and Phil was probably uncomfortable with the position we were in. I noticed how much depth his blue eyes had, with different shades of green intertwined with gorgeous layers of blue. I noticed the way his black hair swooped to the side so gracefully, and how soft his skin looked. I took comfort in the fact he cared, and I felt a smile slowly creep onto my face, then i lurched forward and vomited again.div  
>div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;" div  
>div style="color: rgba(0,0,0,0.701961); text-decoration: -webkit-letterpress;"emstrongEh, still don't know how I'm feeling about this fic, might end up just being a one shot? Well, I hope you enjoyed it, please review!strong/em/div  
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